


please don't fall (down the rabbit hole)

by humaankameleonn (nainai96)



Series: Fic Orphanage and Graveyard [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Angst, Bipolar Disorder, Depression, Dissociation, Gen, Genderswap, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, dancer!harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-16
Updated: 2013-10-16
Packaged: 2017-12-29 14:45:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1006646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nainai96/pseuds/humaankameleonn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry dances like the water in the brook, tumbling head over heels over head over the rocks, fast and deadly, readying to pull you under.  She moves like a cliché, the music flowing through her body, routines blowing through her, blinding her audience.  She moves like she’s feeling personified and it’s just enough to scare Niall and Zayn, but that’s nothing compared to how and what the audience is thinking at the end of her shows.  She doesn’t know (care) what they think of her, only of the movement and the slim details plucked into place in the wings, waiting for the curtain to rise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	please don't fall (down the rabbit hole)

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning for everything tagged. Feel free to leave criticism or advice, I'd actually like to finish this but I'm stuck.

Harry dances like the water in the brook, tumbling head over heels over head over the rocks, fast and deadly, readying to pull you under.  She moves like a cliché, the music flowing through her body, routines blowing through her, blinding her audience.  She moves like she’s feeling _personified_ and it’s just enough to scare Niall and Zayn, but that’s nothing compared to how and what the audience is thinking at the end of her shows.  She doesn’t know _(care)_ what they think of her, only of the movement and the slim details plucked into place in the wings, waiting for the curtain to rise.

When it’s all over and done, Harry curtseys, lifts her right hand in a trademark salute to the crowd, then turns and leaves, heading back to the studio to start on the choreography for next term, flying across the damp, musty room on torn flesh, blackened toenails and calloused _handsfeetknees_.  Her heart beats too fast, too hard and too...something else, something that she can’t quite lay a skeletal finger on.  It keeps on beating like that, like it wants to stop going, until she’s collapsed and the music’s stopped and Niall _(good Niall, strong Niall)_ picks her up, off the floor and carries her to the car.

Josh drives them to Harry’s penthouse apartment, pristine and stinking of wealth, undesired.  He hauls her into the elevator and makes sure that she doesn’t fall _(down the rabbit hole / too far / at all)_ and thinks that maybe it’s sad that he’s got a routine for the nights when his girlfriend’s childhood best friend has passed out in a dance studio at 3:46 am, sweat-smudged stage makeup, bleeding bare feet, bleeding bare heart.  He doesn’t mind though, meaning no harm in asking Zayn if Harry has always been like this and not pushing it further when she glares through hooded lids and thick lashes wordlessly.  He quirks an eyebrow and heads back to the guest room that Niall is partial to, that she lives in when she’s not at his or Zayn’s.  He repeats the question to her, not really expecting it when she replies with a shrug and a _Harry’s always just been Harry_ and then, after a thought filled pause, _but she has been a touch more so recently, you know?_ They fall asleep after that, hands meeting in the middle.

 

+

 

When Harry wakes up, it’s eight in the evening and she’s tempted to shoot herself, but _where would she find a gun?_   So instead, she brushes her teeth and washes her body, watching the dried blood and glitter swirl down the drain and, eventually, the vibrant scarlet of fresh blood twisting and turning down into the pipes. 

She meets Zayn for breakfast and ignores the stare that’s choking her when she orders _an_ _extra large coffee, black, and a triple espresso._   She swallows shame and regret when she turns back to her friend and continues to act like it’s normal, she’s normal.  Like she could completely remember the night before and how her dance recital went or even the last time she ate something that wasn’t salad (no dressing) or Weight Watcher’s jelly.

Zayn raises her eyebrows at the ridiculously large drink dwarfing her elfin hands.  Harry knows it’s a “ _What’s that then?”_ but she treats it like it’s a simple “ _haven’t seen you in forever, mate_. _”_

“’Been busy as fucking hell with work and dance and school and everything else, Zayny.  You know that well enough, yeah?”  Her voice is as throaty and raw as it’s ever been, surprisingly solid and tough for a girl who barely weighs enough to fit into the petite section in the shops.  It’s very good at keeping the illusion going, making people think that she’s healthier than she is.  She shrugs out of her jacket, showing off bony shoulder blades, and ribs, and a pair of collarbones that stick out over sunken flesh.  She shakes her long mane of waves and curls out and down before sitting up straight and giving Zayn her long perfected stage smile.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed, please comment and kudos! 
> 
> xx Nailah


End file.
